


Bells of Paris

by writtenbyaslytherin



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angels are assholes, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not Beta Read, Porn With Plot, Torture, Wing Kink, for once gabriel isn't a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenbyaslytherin/pseuds/writtenbyaslytherin
Summary: After the Notpocalypse both sides seem to have taken Crowley and Aziraphale's warning and left them to their own side. But not all on each faction agree with upper managements decision. A select group of angels looking to make a name for themselves corner Crowley and exact their own version of Heaven's revenge. Aziraphale does not take kindly to the angels and must be stopped before more than their wings are burned by his fury.A/N please note the tags on this one. There is potential for triggers although the torture is only limited to the first chapter it is something to keep in mind.





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Modern Talking "Bells of Paris"

_Remember tonight…_  
_ For it is the beginning of always_  
~Dante Alighieri

_You're holding me till the night is gone_   
_ Oh, my little heart really blue apart_

The first time Aziraphale saved Crowley from danger, or sheer stupidity if you asked him, was back in the sixties. Outside of some shitty dive bar where he was planning to rob a church for what he could only imagine to be a suicide pill. Rather than have him and a band of gullible humans enter sacred ground and possibly get hurt or killed, Azariphale intervened and brought him a thermos of holy water. The water itself was from Puerto Williams, a small town in Chili’s Magallanes Region. In 2015 it would be discovered to be the purest water in the world. However Aziraphale already knew that. He was the one who put it there. With water so pure it made the local flora flourish and evolve at a much faster rate than anywhere else in the world. It reminded him of Crowley and his plants. As a personal favor, Aziraphale asked the Pope himself to bless the water. While he was still horrified over the idea of giving Crowley something so lethal, he was going to give him the best because his demon deserved the best of everything. And secretly prayed that he wouldn’t use it for self destructive purposes.

That was also the same night that he told his first lie. At least to Crowley.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Crowley’s beloved Bentley he told his demon that he had been hearing things. Whispers about what he was planning. This was partly true. He had heard rumors of a wealthy red headed man who wore sunglasses even at night planning to rob a church, but no one knew what for. But that was not the first thing he heard. It started as soft notes. As if someone were playing the violin several blocks away and he could only catch a few of the chords. By the time he found himself in the passenger seat of the beloved black car the notes grew louder, only silencing when he handed the thermos to Crowley. Aziraphal was not stupid by any means. A bit dense at times if you asked Crowley, but not stupid. What had started out as an “arrangement” between the two had developed into an almost telepathic connection. When Crowley needed him he would hear the violin singing chords unachievable by man. They were notes only for Crowley. It was after hearing them for the first time Aziraphale wondered if Crowley heard them too. Or if he heard something else entirely.

Tonight however it wasn’t the sounds of the sweet violin that caused Aziraphale to jump knocking over his cup of tea and leave one of his precious books to soak up the spilled liquid or broken glass. It was a shrieking violin that if heard outside his head could have shattered windows. Crowley wasn’t just in trouble. He was going to die. Permanently.

***

“Well well well, what do we have here,” an angelic voice sneered behind Crowley.

“I do believe it’s that fat angel’s boyfriend,” a second voice snickered beside him.

“Now I know Gabriel said leave him be, but I just can’t help but to think that this little raven needs to be punished,” the third voice added.

At the mention of Aziriphale, Crowley stopped mid step and slowly turned around. “Ah the three stooges,” Crowley smiled. “Shouldn’t you lot be off saving pigeons or playing with cess pool instead of bothering me?”

The three angels each gave the demon a venomous glare. “I would watch your tongue snake,” the leader of the three commanded.

“Or what Govad? You going to smite me?” Crowley mocked.

“No,” Izrail grinned appearing on Crowley’s right side snatching up his arm holding him tight.

“We are going to burn you,” Sama’el hissed grabbing his other arm and forcing him to his knees.

Crowley growled as he watched Govad strut behind him carrying a small vile unable to move. He felt Govad place a fist in the center of his back, just below his shoulder blades. It was the one spot he never allowed to be touched by anyone, save for Aziraphale. With enough pressure in that area once could force his inky black wings from their ethereal hiding place without his consent. It was a brutally painful experience. One that he equated to having his nose repeatedly broken and reset all at the same time.

“What are you- Ah fuck,” Crowley screamed. A flash of white claimed his vision as Govad forced his wings out.

“Gabriel warned us to stay away from you two,” Govad commented as he poured the contents of the vile across each wing. “He said you bathed in holy water as a human child does in a bathtub. But I wonder,” he paused, “what would holy oil do?”

“It would not kill you,” Izrail added flicking a small silver lighter from his pocket.

“Nor would it discorperate you,” Sama’el smiled pulling out a matching lighter.

“I’ve been told it burns hotter than Hellfire. Let us find out, shall we?”

In unison the two groupie anged dropped Crowley’s arms and lit the holy oil setting his once beautiful wings aflame. The shriek erupted from the demon’s throat could be heard across continents. Parents dropped what they were doing in desperate search of their injured offspring. Children ran to their parents hands cupping their sensitive ears in agony. Animals howled and whined in sympathy to the poor creature suffering the horror of being burned alive without the solace of death to turn to.

Tears mixed with snot as Crowley thrashed about trying to quench the fire. Charred feathers flung from his wings as he tossed them about. The three avenging angels let their grins of pleasure spread unnaturally across their faces hearing the sounds of snapping wing bones. Their little plot for revenge coming to fruition in front of their eyes only made the scent of burning feathers sweeter. Oh how Gabriel would be proud of them. Their pride however, would not last long.

Appearing before them was an angel more feared in Heaven than Michael himself. The angel who stood against Heaven with God’s blessing. This pugey, spoiled angel who once stood weak in their presence now stood tall and furious. He was more an avenging anger than any before or after him.

“What have you done?” Aziraphale snarled. The flames from his sword highlighting the subtle shadows of his fully expanded wings.

With Cowley hidden from sight the trio stepped back preparing for the impending fight. If the look in Aziraphale’s eyes was anything to go by, the angels had more to worry about than just discorperation.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whimpered reaching towards his angel.

“Crowley,” he breathed. The angel’s face softened at the sound of the demon’s voice. Whipping around Aziraphale tore off his prized white coat and immediately began to smother the burning wings.

The angels watched with a mix of horror and fascination at the two. Not only was one of their own helping the demon but he cared for him. Whispering calming words as he worked with small prayers sprinkled in between.

***  
My angel, Crowley thought, thank God… Satan… Aziraphale, whoever is looking out for me today.

As a demon Crowley was accustomed to pain. It was nothing new and he in fact had built up quite a tolerance to it despite being on Earth for over six centuries. But this was more than he could bare. Racked with pain, Crowley could only think of one thing to ease the burn ever so slightly. Aziraphale. The three stooges said that he would not die. But he doubted that any of them had ever hand their wings deep fried. No this was it. The end. He survived the fall, the almost-apocalypse all to be with him. And now it all ended here. Being burned alive by a bunch of second rate angels who weren’t fit to wipe the dirt from his angel’s feet. What a bunch of bullshit.

Another flash of white filled his vision. It was another angel. But not just any angel. His angel. He would recognise those wings anywhere. Crowley had memorized each and every feather from the nights he spent preening them. The sweet scent of weathered leather, vanilla and nutmeg flooded his senses with each gust of wind they created. Aziraphale was happiness, fun, love. Aziraphale was home.

“Aziraphale,” he whispered reaching out towards him before succumbing to the pain.

***  
“How dare you?” Aziraphale growleed stepped between Crowley and the angels again. “How dare you touch him?” he howled the flames erupting from his sword. With speed he did not know he had he leapt at them. Eager to make them pay.

The angels dodged the first couple of attacks, yet Aziraphale was relentless. Each strike hitting it’s mark. Whether it was flesh or metal he did not care. They had ambushed his demon, held him down and tortured him for no reason other than wanting to satisfy their blood lust. It was disgusting, unangelic. And wrong. Aziraphale had never understood the human saying “seeing red.” Not until he heard his demon cry out. Not until he had witness what his “brothers” had done to Crowley.

Govad screamed as he rushed the avenging angel. His sword held high to deliver an agonising blow. Aziraphale caught the it with his. A cruel malicious smile spread across Govad’s face.

“Such a pathetic excuse for an angel,” he sneered.

Sama’el and Izrail’s blades swung in from the side as he was distracted. The blows to his chest and abdomen threw him toppling back. Using his wings for balance he caught himself just before he landed on his demon. Blood surged unnaturally from his wounds. Clutching his abdomen he looked up at his foes and growled.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” Straightening his stance he swung his sword and prepared to advance.

“That is enough Aziraphale,” a deep familiar voice called out.

“Gabriel,” the three gasped snapping to attention.

“Gabriel, I thought we had an agreement?” Aziraphale snapped.

“We do,” the archangel stated fearlessly walking between the warring angels.

“Then what in Heaven and Hell is the meaning of this?” he screamed.

“Aziraphale please understand Heaven had nothing to do with this. I had nothing to do with this. I came here to take them back. The Almighty is not happy.”

The bruised and broken angel’s faces fell. God was not happy. They knew all too well what happened when She was not happy.

“Gabriel-”

“Silence,” Gabriel snapped. “Michael is waiting for you.” Snapping his finger the offending angels disappeared. “Aziraphale-”

“Don’t you Aziraphale m,” he snapped. “Look what your bloody angels did. And for what? We are supposed to be the good guys. Good guys don’t do things like this.”  
“And we are,” Gabriel breathed.

“Oh really? Then what do you call this?” Aziraphale asked stepping to the side.

Now Gabriel was not an emotional angel. That is unless he was attempting to pretend to be human. But the sight of the crumpled up demon before him had tears silently streaming down his face. The demon Aziraphale loved so much lay flat on his stomach in what Gabriel could only describe as smoldering ash. His black wings, or what was left of them, lay spread out beside him. Each wing had been brutally burned. Feathers frayed and baren littering the ground around him while the naken patches cracked under charred flesh and bled in hot pools beneath him. The more Gabriel looked the more damage he saw. He noted that Cowley’s right wing jutted at several unnatural angels, wondering if the angels caused the breaks directly.

The advert of the apocalypse told Gabriel two things. Well three fi he counted Aziraphale’s basking in Hellfire yet remaining an angel. One, that God’s ineffable plan was far greater than he had been privy to. And two, Crowley was not evil, just a bit incompetant and fairly good despite himself. He did not deserve this. This is not what angels do. Despite his vast powers, Gabriel did not have the ability to alter time and prevent his atrocity. The only thing he could do was help. Taking a cautious step forward he slid over the demon and knelt down beside his face. As he reached out to touch Crowley he found a flaming sword more inches from his cheek.

“Do not touch him,” Aziraphale commanded.

“I can’t take it back,” Gabriel sighed, “but I can help.”

"Why?"

"Because, as you said we are the good guys." Snapping his fingers Crowley was gone. All evidence of the torture was gone as well save for one half burnt feather floating aimlessly in front of the archangel.

"Where is he?" Aziraphale snapped raising his sword again. Aziraphale gave Gabriel a venomous stare. One that Gabriel was sure could kill him if he had the power, or desire to kill him.

"He's at your little book shop. I even have him laying in your bed."

"Hmpf," Aziraphale grunted shearing his sword put if sight and in the urethral dimension. "I suppose I should thank you?"

"No please don't," Gabriel said, holding up his hand. "The angels will be dealt with and rest assured Heaven will not bother the two of you again."

"Good. I'm leaving," he stated turning around.

"Wait. Crowley's wings should heal on their own given enough time. But it will take awhile and Will be painful. Take this," Gabriel said, holding out a large white pitcher similar to the one Michael brought to Hell.

"What is it?"

"Blessed lamb's blood. Spread this over his wings and they will heal." Handing over the pitcher Gabriel flashed a sad smile and snapped his fingers returning to Heaven.

Aziraphale stated at the spot his once commander had been standing and sighed. Clutching the pitcher to his chest he felt the tears swell up in the corner of his blue eyes. Aziraphale took a deep breath and forced the tears down. His demon needed him. He needed him to be strong. For once he would be the one to rescue Crowley. And he would do it without crying.


	2. Relief and Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Crowley safe from the reach of angels, Aziraphale receives help from an unlikely source

Now, you're looking in my eyes  
And I feel the need  
I will try to make your dreams come true

In the grand scheme of things the little bookshop located in the heart of London was not even a footnote. But tonight it was the center of the universe for two celestial beings. One, an angel who had never truly experienced rage until today. There had been many times he had been irritated or down right frustrated. This was usually due to some ridiculous stunt performed by the other celestial being currently in the shop. But never rage. The angels had finally pushed him over the edge. And it was not a pretty sight. Aziraphale had always said Heaven and its angels could do what they liked to him. But Crowley was crossing the line.

The second being was currently passed out, and stayed that way with a little help from Gabriel, on Aziraphale's simple queen size bed. It had been three days since the attack and the bookshop had yet to open for the angel had been too busy tending to his demon. The first day he spend setting and healing the broken bones in the wings. The worst if the breaks were not the obvious ones that kinked the wings at unnatural angles. No, demonic and angelic wings were filled with tiny bones that made them move in that majestic way that they did. It took Aziraphale nearly twenty-four hours to heal them all properly. Thankfully Crowley had not woken up during that time. The next three days he spent lathering the blessed lambs blood over the wings. Crowley had regained consciousness a few times only to burst into tears of pain. It was a gift from God herself that he was weak enough to succumb to Aziraphale's little sleep miracle. The fifth night however, Crowley woke up in a bed that wasn't his and his angel missing. 

“Angel,” Crowley gasped. “Aziraphale, Aziraphale where are you?” he screamed.

“I’m here I’m here,” Aziraphale shouted, bolting into the room dropping the cup of hot tea and rushing to the bed. 

Crowley collapsed in his angel’s arms desperate for as much contact as he could get. Touching the angel made him real. He was alive, Aziraphale was alive and well. Other than the spilled tea. Crowley sucked in deep breaths, capturing the scent of his angel. A sense of warmth and calmness flowed over him like a soft blanket. It had all been a dream. A God awful, terrifying dream. He wasn’t being burned alive; left to suffer in agony alone knowing he would never lay eyes upon the prissy angel ever again. It had felt so real. The terror coursing through his veins , the cracks of hollow bones and the burning of flesh. It had all been a dream.

“Crowley my dear, how are you feeling?” Aziraphale almost whispered stroking his fiery red hair.

“Angel I had the worst dream. I dreamt that I was jumped by a few half baked angels who set my wings on fire. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought, if this is what they are going to do to kill me then what in Hell were they planning for you. All I could do was scream and twist about. But I couldn’t get rid of the fire. And… and then you,” Crowley gasped suddenly hyperventilating.

“Shhh shhh dear. Calm down,” Aziraphale cooed rubbing small circles in his back. “I’m right here and so are you. Everything is fine.”

Crowley closed his eyes clinging to Aziraphale’s shirt as if it were a life preserver. After a few deep breaths he managed to calm down. Suddenly a thought struck him. He was holding onto Aziraphale’s shirt not his favorite jacket. The angel rarely took off the jacket if ever. 

“Angel?”  
“Yes my dear?”

“Where is your jacket?”

“Umm well,” Aziraphale started, suddenly unable to find the right words. How do you tell someone that you love that they were tortured and that you nearly killed the source? How do you explain the rage that exuded out of him was frightening? How do you explain that in over six thousand years you never really thought about him being gone? And in those few moments that it was a real possiblity that his beloved demon could be gone forever, all the tip toeing around his true feelings was to be frank, stupid. 

“Angel,” Crowley growled twisting around to view his angel better. The sudden movement jerked his wings causing him to howl in the unexpected pain. “Sonofabitch,” he shouted. “What the hell are these doing out?”

“Now Crowley calm down for a moment and let me explain.”

“Explain what? What the hell is going on?”

“Crowley please settle down and let me explain,” Aziraphale whispered. “A few days ago you were attacked by three angels. They set your wings on fire. I showed up and then Gabriel showed up. He put you to sleep so I could heal the worst of the wounds. I can do the rest tonight and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Right as rain?” Crowley asked horrified. “How in the-what the… Just, hold on let me think a moment.”

Aziraphale sat still as a statue waiting for Crowley to process all of the information. It was a lot to take in, even for the immortal being. He watched patiently as a vast array of emotions played across his face. First was confusion, which Aziraphale expected. Six thousand years on Earth and no one, angel nor demon, had gotten the drop on Crowley the way that the angels had the other day. The next was horror at what he had suffered. Again Aziraphale expected this. But what he did not expect was the look of absolute adoration that graced his face next. 

“You came?” Crowley asked bewildered.

“Of course I came. Don’t be daft.”

“But how did you know where I was? Bloody hell I didn’t even know where I was.”  
“You see the thing is, I heard you,” Aziraphale muttered,

“You what?”

“I heard your scream and I just knew where you were. I came right over and well, chased them off.” 

“Don’t be so modest Aziraphale,” a deep familiar voice commented from the corner of the room. 

Both angel and demon jerked their heads towards the direction of the voice. Rage coursed through their veins like an overflowing river. Both stood in unison, wings spread ready to fight.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you said Heaven will leave us alone?” Aziraphale snapped.

“Now hold on, hold on. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I came here to check on the two of you. I’ve been watching you for the last few days and I wanted to see the two of you in person,” Gabriel smiled, holding his hands up to show he came in peace.

The two stole glances at each other and nodded. Crowley sat back down on the bed while Aziraphle moved to pick up the pieces of the broken teacup.

“Here let me,” Gabriel offered waving his hand towards the broken china.

The angelic white china mended instantly leaving perfectly unblemished pink roses and gold trim that reminded Gabriel of his old robes. The ones that he wore when he told the blessed Mother Mary that she was carrying Jesus Christ. Gabriel was not the most sentimental of angels but those robes were special to him. Sure human clothing was fun and he enjoyed it to the point that even Michael took notice. Yet those robes meant more to him than all the well tailored suits he kept in his office. Aziraphale’s cups were a wonderful reminder. Perhaps he would ask the angel where he got the set and purchase one of his own. It would be a nice gift to himself after the nightmare that was the last few days.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the sight of his beloved tea set brought back to life. It was a gift from the owner of the gentlemen's club where he learned the Gavant. Those were wonderful days. It was such a shame that the dance had gone out of style. Aziraphale nearly skipped over to his boss picking up the tea cup and saucer.

“Thank you so much Gabriel. Can I offer you some tea? Crowley dear would you like some as well?” Aziraphale pipped heading towards the door.

“Alcohol,” Crowley growled.

“No dear you need tea. Gabriel?”

Gabriel almost sneered at the thought of putting a human drink into his body, but thought better of himself. He had come here to make amends to the pair not start a fight. “Yes please.”

Aziraphale nodded and headed out the door towards his modest kitchen leaving the two enemies alone.

“Now that he is gone I want to know something Gabriel.” The way Crowley said the archangel’s name came out more of a hiss. 

The venom that the demon intended was not lost on Gabriel who merely stood a bit straighter at the sound of his name. “What do you need to know?”

“What really happened?”  
“Why don’t you ask Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked tipping his head.

“Now you and I both know that Aziraphale is not one for blood and violence so the fact that I have been unconscious for three days means that something nasty happened and he is not going to tell me. That and considering the fact that you are here means that it must have been pretty bad. So out with it. What happened?”

Gabriel took and unnecessary breath and sat down in a chair across from Crowley. “You were attacked by the three angels Sama’el, Izrail and Govad. They lit your wings on fire with holy oil. Aziraphale heard your scream and came to your side. It was the most peculiar thing,” Gabriel mussed.

“Being barbequed alive? Well I suppose that some would consider it peculiar. Not really a kink I enjoy myself,” Crowley stated sardonically.

“No that. Aziraphale arrived just as you began screaming. Not after. It was like he knew something was wrong.”

Crowley’s lips curled into a small smile. He thought it was only him. He had always been able to sense when the daft angel was in trouble of some sort. From the crepes incident in France to the bombing of the church during the war, Crowley had what he felt like was a sixth sense about his angel. Each time he was in trouble there was an irritating little ringing in his ears and suddenly knew where Aziraphale was. It was nice to know that Aziraphale had that same ability. 

“Crowley,” Gabriel stated.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I said you have a very unique angel by your side.”

“How so?”

“That day I saw a side of Aziraphale that I had never seen before. I was there when he was created. God poured so much love into him. I sometimes wonder if she knew what would happen. But that is a dumb question. Of course she knew. The way that Aziraphale moved, the way he fought. If he were that angry when the war took place then my side surely would have won. Believe me, I have seen avenging angels, and Aziraphale would have dropped them to their knees.”

Crowley’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “No. Aziraphale?” he gasped.

“Yes.”

“Aziraphale? As in the owner of this book shop who loves sushi and the smell of century old dust Aziraphale?”

“Yes that Aziraphale. You know the last few days had me thinking about the-”

“Don’t say it,” Crowley snapped pointing his finger at Gabriel. 

“Ineffable plan. You two broke the rules and yet you two share something that I have recently seen humans strive for. Something that angels are made of. Perhaps I need to reevaluate how Heaven is ran,” Gabriel mussed more to himself than to Crowley. “There is one thing though.”

“And what would that be?” Crowley asked genuinely curious. In all the time he spent in Heaven before he vaguely sauntered down to Hell, and even the few instances afterwards that he dealt with Gabriel, he had never known the archangel to be skeptical of Heaven. Or even his own judgement for that matter. For Gabriel to want to give him a piece of advice it had to be good.

“Don’t lose Aziraphale. Heaven does not want him back. He’s much too… frightening,” he decided. “And besides, I doubt he will let you go either. Slithering serpent and all.”

“I’m back and I’ve brought tea and some chocolate biscuits,” Aziraphale happily announced as he strutted into the room with the silver tray.

“Great,” Crowley smiled.

“As pleasant as that smells I will unfortunately have to pass Aziraphale. Perhaps next time I’m down here I could partake in your refreshments?” Gabriel asked standing to leave. 

“Oh, um well, I mean of course of course. Important business in Heaven to attend to and all. But please do come back.”

Crowley grunted at the comment. That ridiculous angel inviting Gabriel back for a spot of tea. After all of the bullying and nastiness that spewed from his mouth at his angel. It was a bit of poetic justice when he breathed fire at him during his “execution.” 

“Crowley please,” Aziraphale snapped. “He is being civil and we can too. Excuse him Gabriel. It’s been a long few days as you well know.”

“Aziraphale it’s alright. I must be going then.” Gabriel gave each of them a polite nod and headed towards the door. “Oh Aziraphale, one more thing,” he paused, turning to face the angel.

“Yes?”

“Where did you get that tea set? I think I would like to have one.”

“Actually it was a gift from a human I met in 1917. However, I bet I can find you one like it if you want,” Aziraphale smiled setting the tray down on the dresser. 

“I’d like.” Flashing the pair one last angelic smile, Gabriel walked out of the book shop feeling a bit relieved at seeing the demon healing well and a bit confused. Something he intended on pondering over a cup of tea that Aziraphale was so giddy about. 

“Well that was a thing,” Crowley commented heading straight for the tea.


	3. The Sound of Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut... you have been warned

Nothing else I do  
Only loving you  
And I never will tell you lies

“How curious,” Aziraphale mused. “I never expected him to show up. Especially not to check on a demon. I’m starting to wonder if he doesn’t fancy you Crowley.”

“No,” Crowley groaned drawing out the ‘o’. “He did tell me something very interesting though.”

“Oh really? What is that?” he asked taking a sip of his tea.

“He told me you were an avenging angel.”

“Oh poppycock,” Aziraphale gasped his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, “I’m no avenging angel. I don’t even like to fight.”

“That’s not what Gabriel told me,” Crowley snickered behind his tea cup. 

Aziraphale’s blush deepened at his demons tease. He hadn’t expected Gabriel to show up, much less tell Crowley about his detestable behavior. As much as the angels deserved what he gave them, it was not becoming of a creature of love such as himself. That and Crowley would undoubtedly tease him relentlessly for it. 

“Well… I,” Aziraphale stammered. “I was furious and I lost my head.”

“From the way Gabriel tells it you were quite impressive.”

“Oh hush would you,” Aziraphale waved him off standing up. “Come on and scoot over I need to finish healing your wings.”

“Alright, alright,” Crowley groaned moving further down the bed to make room for Aziraphale.

“You know Angel,” Crowley muttered twitching slightly at the adjustment of one of the sore wing bones, “you said that you heard me screaming.”  
“I did, as I’m sure the whole world did as well,” Aziraphale commented absentmindedly. The largest of the wing bones in Crowley’s left wing needed to popped back into place yet he was reluctant to do it. The demon was still sensitive, but if he did not correct it now the wings would never heal properly.

“Do you- Ah fuck Angel,” Crowley shreiked pitching forward as Aziraphale adjusted the dislocated wing.

“I’m sorry dear but it would have hurt more if I told you beforehand.”

“Naw it’s alright is alright,” he hissed slowly sitting up back within reach of Aziraphale. “As I was saying, do you hear me often.”

“What do you mean?” he asked gently rubbing the joint between his wing and back.”

Crowley sighed dropping his head. “Do you remember Paris?”

“Of course dear,” he exclaimed. “We had crepes.”

“Before that. Just before you were about to be decapitated I heard this soft little ringing in the back of my head and all the sudden I just knew where you were.”

“Interesting,” Aziraphale smiled. When Crowley was in trouble there was no soft little ringing in the back of his head. It was more like the howl of several fire alarms going off in his head. Perhaps the tone of the ringing correlated to the level of danger that either of them were in. “The same thing happened to me, sort of.”

“How so?” he asked curiosity overtaking the soothing feeling of Aziraphale’s fingertips smoothing out the contour feathers over the top of the largest of the bones.

“The ringing I heard was defaning and like you said, I suddenly knew where you were. Gabriel told you everything else,” Aziraphale blushed still horrified that the archangel would say anything.

Crowley groaned tipping his head back as Aziraphale found a particularly tight knot in the muscle of his wing. That spot had been bothering him for ages. The attack had only made the dull ache throb even worse. “Damn that’s good Angel.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. He loved making his demon feel good. Things like this were few and far between prior to the apocalypse. The two made a habit of preening and massaging each others wings every few hundred years or so. But they were short encounters and kept to their mostly platonic relationship. Mostly to Aziraphale’s despair. These feelings had been building for sometime. And if he were being perfectly honest with himself, and he so rarely was on this topic, he would suspect that these feelings of more than friendship started to spark when Crowley rescued his books from a bomb. A demon so awful would have never done such a thing. A demon would have never acted as Crowley had acted in the centuries that he knew him. In his wildest fantasies Crowley mirrored his feelings of love. Love in the most human of ways.

“Always happy to help my dear.”

“Why did you come after me?” he asked twitching his wing so Aziraphale moved to just the right spot to scratch and itch.

“Because I love you idiot. Why else?” The words were out of his mouth before he could process that they were coming. His hands stilled immediately where they were clutching the inky black wings. 

Well, cat’s out of the bag now, Aziraphale thought resuming his movements.

“Aziraphale, have you ever heard the song ‘Bells of Paris’?” Crowley asked softly. After everything the last few days, he couldn’t deny it any further. If Aziraphale could hear bells the moment he was in trouble and come rushing to his aid, then he had to feel the same way. It was now or never. Without Heaven or Hell breathing down their necks it was time to be honest. After all, he had never lied to his angel before.

“No, I don’t think I have. Would you like to listen to it?” he asked tipping his head. 

Crowley closed his eyes and nodded his head refusing to speak. With a quick snap of his fingers a small black boom box appeared in the corner of the room. The high pitch melody filled the room startling Aziraphale out of his thoughts.

“This music doesn’t really suit you Crowley. I’m surprised you know it,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“Oh shut up and listen,” Crowley hissed.

“Oh, I gave you my heart  
Every little bit  
You're holding me till the night is gone  
Oh, my little heart really blue apart  
When you touched me  
You hold so strong  
Now, you're looking in my eyes  
And I feel the need  
I will try to make your dreams come true  
Nothing else I do  
Only loving you  
And I never will tell you lies…”

As the song continued, Aziraphale’s movements slowed. The song was nothing like the music that Crowley enjoyed. His demon prefered guitar and drums paired with the delightful vocals of Fredy Mercury. But the lyrics. Oh those glorious, delightful lyrics. Crowley was trying to tell him everything he kept bottled up. All neatly packaged in one terrible, delightful song from the 1980’s.

“Oh Crowley,” he breathed dropping his hands.

“Yes?” Crowley whispered refusing to look behind him. 

“I...I,” he stammered unsure of what to say. What could he say? He just blurted out that he loved him with no pretense whatsoever. Even in his wildest dreams an attack and surprise visit from Gabriel were not even a consideration. No he had always envisioned a lovely dinner and charming music and some grand declaration that would make Crowley roll his eyes. Sitting here listening to an 80’s synthesizer belt out Crowley’s own version of love was not part of any fantasy anywhere. But after everything they had been through they certainly could roll with the punches. 

What do I say? Aziraphale pondered, going back to work on the wings

“Don’t,” Crowley whispered.

“What’s wrong dear?” Aziraphale asked suddenly halting his hands over the inky black feathers.

“Don’t touch me like that,” Crowley whispered again. There was no edge to his voice. Only a soft wavering despair as if the demon were on the verge of tears.

“Crowley? Crowley my dear what is the matter?” A horrified expression swept over the angel’s face as quickly as the desert wind. He had been so careful. Tried so hard to send love to his demon as he repaired his wings. It never occurred to him that his grace could actually hurt Crowley. That was the last thing he wanted. “My dear please look at me.”

Crowley remained firmly planted in his spot on the bed. Aziraphale could not see him like this. He was a demon for Christ-Sata-someone’s sake. Demons did not cry, let alone have their hearts ripped out at the realization that the only being in the universe he ever loved would never love him back. At least not in the way that he loved him.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale pleaded. “Please look at me.”

Slowly the demon turned around, careful not to hit Aziraphale with his wings. Tears pooled at the corners of his golden eyes and trickled down his cheeks as he looked at his beautiful angel. Thousands of years of sorrow and longing etched across the demon’s pristine face. After the attack there was no sense in hiding anything anymore. It would not be any worse. Well, other than Aziraphale being horrified at the idea of Crowley loving him in the most human and ethereal way. Now that was a rejection that even the great Anthony J. Crowley could not bare.

“Oh Crowley, I am so sorry,” the angel nearly sobbed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had no idea that-”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Crowley interrupted in a small voice. “I don’t even feel it anymore.”

“Then why are you upset dear.”

“Because,” he started, “because I can’t handle the love you poured into my wings. And I don’t want to ruin this.”

“Crowley what do you mean ruin things? You can’t ruin things. We are on our side now. No one can stop us from being friends.”

“But that’s just it Angel. I… I want,” he trailed off. He could not say it. There was too much at risk. Six thousand years and they were finally free to be together and if Crowley poured his heart out he could spoil everything they worked for. It was a risk he was not willing to take. If Aziraphale wanted to remain friends then he would take it. He would take anything the angel offered. As long as he stayed.

A sudden realization hit Aziraphale. Much like a suprise sugary filling hidden in a new pastry. That’s what this is about, he thought. 

Now as an angel, Aziraphale is a principality. A great large angel with immense power. And with that power comes great intelligence. His love of books and human food gave many angels the false impression that he was simple and dense. But this was not the case. Aziraphale was quite clever, especially when it came to his demon.

“Oh Crowley my dear,” he smiled, “I love you.”

Despite himself Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s hand that held his face and wiped away a new trickle of tears. “ Yes I know. You love all Her creations. No matter who they are.”

“That is true my dear. But that is not how I love you. Do you remember dinner at the Ritz after everything was over; those blokes sitting at the table next to us?”

Crowley shook his head. That night he had been focused only on Aziraphale. The archangel Gabriel and Lord Beezelbub could have marched in leading a conga line through the dining area and he would not have noticed.

Aziraphale sat pondering a moment. Trying to think of something to show Crowley what he meant. “Do you remember that couple in the park? After we switched our bodies back.”

Now that he remembered. He remembered glancing around the park as they walked toward the street, his golden eyes safely hidden behind his glasses. All manner of normal people going about their lives as if the world had not almost come to an end. Aziraphale had begun to describe a lovely little coffee shop that just opened that he would love to try at one point when Crowley’s eyes landed on a particular elderly couple in the park.

There was nothing particularly unique about the couple, except to Crowley. As a demon he naturally felt temptation, fear, all of humanity's dark emotions. Love was never one of them. Except when he looked at the two. It was then he truly understood what Aziraphale was saying that he felt love. They were an older pair. Nearing the end of their short lives if he had to guess, sitting comfortably on a bench basking in each other’s presence. The one with the snow white hair prattled on about his grandchildren while the other grey hair man listened as if he were the only other person in the world. Each and every subtle movement mirrored in the other sending waves of love and adoration. If their aura was so strong that Crowley could feel it, he was sure that Aziraphale was beaming.

Without realizing it he had stopped to stare at the two. Aziraphale however felt it the moment they started walking. What shocked him was the fact that Crowley noticed too. Things were changing for the two of them. Aziraphale knew it even if Crowley did not. 

“Yes I remember then,” Crowley whispered.

“That my dear is how I love you. I despise the idea of this little planet no longer existing. But I could not exist in a universe without you in it. I love you Crowley,” he smiled making sure to our even more of his love into the hand that held his lovers face.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whimpered fresh tears running down his face.

Without another word, Aziraphale pulled his demon into his lap and into a kiss that was thousands of years in the making. Their rouches gentle and exploring. Neither Heaven nor Hell could stop them now. They had all of eternity to be together.

Their kisses slowly turned to exploration. Clothes scattered the floor around them as each took turns igniting the flames of a slow burn that left them sweating, craving more of each other’s touch. Crowley worshiped the body of his angel that was so criticized. Melting away the emotional wounds with whispers of adoration, kisses and his skillfully teasing hands. While Aziraphale took a more direct route. Thrusting into his demon until he could do nothing more than shout his name in reverence. Each touch, each movement a promise that he loved him and he would never leave again.

Thoroughly spent the two collapsed against one another. Content to be curled up in the mess that they created. They could have easily miracled themselves clean. But neither truly wanted to. Crowley much prefered a shower and Aziraphale… well he was interested in discovering what it would be like to make love in a shower now that he knew Crowley loved him. He once read a book with a particularly enticing shower scene in ti. And in their current state he would very much like to try it out for himself.


End file.
